01 November 2005
Day 17: Escape from Lukla
If the IRS, CIA and my EE 170 teacher combined to make an airline, they would surely adopt the Yeti airline's Lukla check in scheme. Its confusing, mysterious and no one had any idea what the hell is going on.
Their office is open from 3 until 4 in the afternoon, but this is purely for show. It is, in fact, a program of the Nepal English Outreach Center so that a different porter can practice saying "no", "I don't know" and "ok, ok, you're on the 17th flight." There are 13 flights a day. Luckily, this did not faze my guide. Happily he told me the flight was at 10am. It wasn't the 9 oclock I was hoping for, but hey, I'm not that picky. So we got up, walked around Lukla (that took up three minutes) then watched planes take off and land - lots of them.
I checked my watch and at 9:30 suggested that maybe we should be checking in and other normal pre-flight things. "No no, we go to the airport at 10am" Ahh, the keys to communication are the subtle little nuances. So at 10 we headed back to the lodge and I asked for my ticket. Apparently "can I have my plane ticket" is Nepali for "I'd like a cup of lemon tea" because that is exactly what I got (or Yeti is a lot more fucked up than I suspect). Pressed further, it seemed our hotel manager had taken the ticekts back to the airport to take part in an ancient Buddhist religious ceremnony.
Shortly, however, he returned with the news of an 11 oclock departure (to the airport). So after some sun and cake (Yeti serves a delicious in flight mint, but I wasn't sure when I'd be able to indulge) we headed to the airport. Once there we gave our tickets, airport tax, excess baggage allowance and a bit of our souls back to the hotel manager who promptly disappeared. Nevermind that five feet away is the check in guy with bag tags and boarding passes, our tickets have just walked off (again).
But lo and behold, twnety minutes later the resilient manger returns and we are issued our boarding passes! Unfortunately, some pertinent imformation was missing. Destination. Flight number. Departure time. Point of fact, the only thing no this piece of paper was the number 2, stamped one inch tall in blue ink. What does the number 2, stamped one inch tall in blue ink, tell you about your chances of getting back to hot showers, sheets and a beer? Noting. Except that when they call flight 1, its not you.
And so we sat in the Lukla airport. No gate change announcement. No screens with DELAYED or BOARDING flashing in red. Not even a recorded voice reminding us that if we leave our bags unattended they will be blown to smithereens. The did let us outside on the tarmic which was pleasant if a bit odd. They are fighting a war with Maoists, there are bunkers built into the runway and they are letting 50 people go for a little stroll and chill out in the shade offered by razor wire.
And then, at 2:15pm, with the clouds steadily closing in, the unexpected happened. A short siren sounded, some army people blew whistles importantly, and out of the sky descended a Yeti airlines Twin Otter. In an impressive dispaly of human restraint, the scene did not turn riotous and there was nary a push or shove as we loaded and were back in the air, Kathmandu bound, by 2:30.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is a good day at the Lukla airport.
Their office is open from 3 until 4 in the afternoon, but this is purely for show. It is, in fact, a program of the Nepal English Outreach Center so that a different porter can practice saying "no", "I don't know" and "ok, ok, you're on the 17th flight." There are 13 flights a day. Luckily, this did not faze my guide. Happily he told me the flight was at 10am. It wasn't the 9 oclock I was hoping for, but hey, I'm not that picky. So we got up, walked around Lukla (that took up three minutes) then watched planes take off and land - lots of them.
I checked my watch and at 9:30 suggested that maybe we should be checking in and other normal pre-flight things. "No no, we go to the airport at 10am" Ahh, the keys to communication are the subtle little nuances. So at 10 we headed back to the lodge and I asked for my ticket. Apparently "can I have my plane ticket" is Nepali for "I'd like a cup of lemon tea" because that is exactly what I got (or Yeti is a lot more fucked up than I suspect). Pressed further, it seemed our hotel manager had taken the ticekts back to the airport to take part in an ancient Buddhist religious ceremnony.
Shortly, however, he returned with the news of an 11 oclock departure (to the airport). So after some sun and cake (Yeti serves a delicious in flight mint, but I wasn't sure when I'd be able to indulge) we headed to the airport. Once there we gave our tickets, airport tax, excess baggage allowance and a bit of our souls back to the hotel manager who promptly disappeared. Nevermind that five feet away is the check in guy with bag tags and boarding passes, our tickets have just walked off (again).
But lo and behold, twnety minutes later the resilient manger returns and we are issued our boarding passes! Unfortunately, some pertinent imformation was missing. Destination. Flight number. Departure time. Point of fact, the only thing no this piece of paper was the number 2, stamped one inch tall in blue ink. What does the number 2, stamped one inch tall in blue ink, tell you about your chances of getting back to hot showers, sheets and a beer? Noting. Except that when they call flight 1, its not you.
And so we sat in the Lukla airport. No gate change announcement. No screens with DELAYED or BOARDING flashing in red. Not even a recorded voice reminding us that if we leave our bags unattended they will be blown to smithereens. The did let us outside on the tarmic which was pleasant if a bit odd. They are fighting a war with Maoists, there are bunkers built into the runway and they are letting 50 people go for a little stroll and chill out in the shade offered by razor wire.
And then, at 2:15pm, with the clouds steadily closing in, the unexpected happened. A short siren sounded, some army people blew whistles importantly, and out of the sky descended a Yeti airlines Twin Otter. In an impressive dispaly of human restraint, the scene did not turn riotous and there was nary a push or shove as we loaded and were back in the air, Kathmandu bound, by 2:30.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is a good day at the Lukla airport.
